her. Surely he was not mocking her. “I expect there are occasions when even the most articulate person might be unable to find just the right word, my lord.”
“And other occasions when only action will suffice.” He cradled the back of her head in one powerful hand, held her still, and slowly bent his head to kiss her again.
This time the kiss was deliberate, calculated, and devastating. Imogen went limp in Matthias’s arms. She heard her cap fall to the carpet with a soft plop. Her hair tumbled free. Matthias buried one hand in it.
Imogen swayed. The world around her became fluid and began to dissolve. The only solid thing left in it was Matthias. And he was very solid, indeed. The strength in him at once overwhelmed and enthralled her. A sweet hunger swept through her. She locked her arms around Matthias’s neck again and held on with all her might.
“You offer one surprise after another,” Matthias whispered against her mouth. “Not unlike Zamar.”
“My lord.” She was dazzled by his words. To be compared to ancient Zamar was beyond anything. No one had ever paid her such a profound compliment.
Matthias eased her back one step and then another. She came up against the wardrobe without any warning. Matthias captured her wrists in his hands and pinned them to the carved mahogany door behind her head.Holding her there, he freed her mouth to trace a scorching series of kisses down her throat. At the same time, he drew his thigh up between her legs. The skirts of her gown foamed over his breeches.
“Good heavens.” Imogen sucked in her breath. Matthias’s leg moved higher between her thighs. “I cannot think—”
“Neither can I at the moment.” He released her wrists. His powerful, elegant hands settled around her throat. He tipped her head back.
Imogen grabbed awkwardly at the handle of the wardrobe to steady herself. But at that exact instant Matthias whirled her away toward the bed.
Imogen forgot to let go of the handle. The wardrobe door came open with a jarring crash. The large object sitting on the middle shelf shuddered beneath the impact and started to topple forward.
Matthias tore his mouth away from Imogen’s throat. “What the devil …?”
Imogen watched in horror as the bowl slipped over the edge of the shelf and plummeted downward. “
Oh, no
.”
Matthias moved with startling, graceful speed. He released Imogen, stepped around her, and caught the bowl in a single lithe movement.
“Bloody hell.” Matthias gazed at the bowl cradled in his hands.
Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. “That was a very near thing, my lord. You move quite quickly.”
“When there’s a good reason to do so.” He smiled slightly as he studied the bowl.
His eyes still gleamed, Imogen noted, but not precisely the same way they had a moment earlier. She took a closer look at the bowl. It was delicately sculpted from a translucent blue-green stone. The stone was unique to Zamarian artifacts. Imogen had been told by one of her correspondents that the fashionable had labeled the color Zamarian green. The bowl was inscribed with words writtenin a flowing script that was as elegant as the vessel itself. Imogen recognized the language immediately.
“Zamarian.” She gazed at the bowl with wonder. “Uncle Selwyn told me that he had some Zamarian artifacts, but I did not realize that he possessed anything so lovely.”
“It probably came from a Zamarian tomb.”
“Yes.” She leaned closer to examine the bowl. “This is a very fine piece, is it not? Look at the words. Informal script rather than formal. A personal offering left in the burial chamber of a loved one, if I am not mistaken.”
Matthias tore his gaze away from the bowl long enough to give her an assessing glance. “You recognize the script?”
“Yes, of course.” Gingerly she took the sea-green bowl from him and turned it slowly in her hands, marveling at the beautiful workmanship. “
As Zamaris embraces Anizamara at day’s end,
“And other occasions when only action will suffice.” He cradled the back of her head in one powerful hand, held her still, and slowly bent his head to kiss her again.
This time the kiss was deliberate, calculated, and devastating. Imogen went limp in Matthias’s arms. She heard her cap fall to the carpet with a soft plop. Her hair tumbled free. Matthias buried one hand in it.
Imogen swayed. The world around her became fluid and began to dissolve. The only solid thing left in it was Matthias. And he was very solid, indeed. The strength in him at once overwhelmed and enthralled her. A sweet hunger swept through her. She locked her arms around Matthias’s neck again and held on with all her might.
“You offer one surprise after another,” Matthias whispered against her mouth. “Not unlike Zamar.”
“My lord.” She was dazzled by his words. To be compared to ancient Zamar was beyond anything. No one had ever paid her such a profound compliment.
Matthias eased her back one step and then another. She came up against the wardrobe without any warning. Matthias captured her wrists in his hands and pinned them to the carved mahogany door behind her head.Holding her there, he freed her mouth to trace a scorching series of kisses down her throat. At the same time, he drew his thigh up between her legs. The skirts of her gown foamed over his breeches.
“Good heavens.” Imogen sucked in her breath. Matthias’s leg moved higher between her thighs. “I cannot think—”
“Neither can I at the moment.” He released her wrists. His powerful, elegant hands settled around her throat. He tipped her head back.
Imogen grabbed awkwardly at the handle of the wardrobe to steady herself. But at that exact instant Matthias whirled her away toward the bed.
Imogen forgot to let go of the handle. The wardrobe door came open with a jarring crash. The large object sitting on the middle shelf shuddered beneath the impact and started to topple forward.
Matthias tore his mouth away from Imogen’s throat. “What the devil …?”
Imogen watched in horror as the bowl slipped over the edge of the shelf and plummeted downward. “
Oh, no
.”
Matthias moved with startling, graceful speed. He released Imogen, stepped around her, and caught the bowl in a single lithe movement.
“Bloody hell.” Matthias gazed at the bowl cradled in his hands.
Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. “That was a very near thing, my lord. You move quite quickly.”
“When there’s a good reason to do so.” He smiled slightly as he studied the bowl.
His eyes still gleamed, Imogen noted, but not precisely the same way they had a moment earlier. She took a closer look at the bowl. It was delicately sculpted from a translucent blue-green stone. The stone was unique to Zamarian artifacts. Imogen had been told by one of her correspondents that the fashionable had labeled the color Zamarian green. The bowl was inscribed with words writtenin a flowing script that was as elegant as the vessel itself. Imogen recognized the language immediately.
“Zamarian.” She gazed at the bowl with wonder. “Uncle Selwyn told me that he had some Zamarian artifacts, but I did not realize that he possessed anything so lovely.”
“It probably came from a Zamarian tomb.”
“Yes.” She leaned closer to examine the bowl. “This is a very fine piece, is it not? Look at the words. Informal script rather than formal. A personal offering left in the burial chamber of a loved one, if I am not mistaken.”
Matthias tore his gaze away from the bowl long enough to give her an assessing glance. “You recognize the script?”
“Yes, of course.” Gingerly she took the sea-green bowl from him and turned it slowly in her hands, marveling at the beautiful workmanship. “
As Zamaris embraces Anizamara at day’s end,
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